The Makeshift Family
by 202polk88
Summary: Mickaela's life with her three time traveler friends was exciting and fun, until she and her family crashed on the island on the way home from vacation. Can the time travelers save her in time before she is stuck on the island forever? OC main characters.
1. Chapter 1

The Makeshift Family

Mickaela: Crash

Plane crashes happen to other people. It happens to those strangers you pass by in the street and never take a second look at. They're always those terrified people on the news. The pictures from the crashes are surreal, like a dream, like a movie. The crimson blood soaks the clothes of the corpses. Flames dance on the metal debris scattered throughout the crash site. Tears run down the faces of the survivors. Some of the people stare blankly into the wreckage of the crash.

I am not supposed to be here.

Just a few hours ago I was skipping through the airport with my best friend and cousin like we were little children.

"Mickaela!" My mother shouts. "Calm down. You are embarrassing us!"

My best friend, Andrea, and I burst into laughter. Cole, my cousin, smiles.

"Sorry Ma," I say. "The caffeine you gave us must really have worked."

Mom shakes her head regretfully as she walks beside us. The flight from Australia to Los Angeles requires us to pass through a ton of time zones, so my parents gave us caffeine to keep our bodies in check. I've never really understood it.

My dad and little sister Daisy catch up to us. Daisy, my seven year old sister, runs to Cole and jumps on his back. Sometimes it bugs me that she loves him more than me. I am her sister after all. But I'm glad there's someone that Cole can protect.

Dad, ever the cameraman, ushers everyone together for the last family photo of the vacation. Andrea and Cole, as usual, try to sneak out of the frame. Thank goodness Mom catches them and says, "When I say family photo, I mean the whole family. Get in here."

Little did any of us know that it would be our last family portrait.

Boarding the plane is a hassle, but then again it always is. My family and I have to spilt up the seats. We have to sit three and three. Andrea, Cole, and I sit a few rows in front of my parents and Daisy. My parents worry a bit about the three of us being away from them, but we assure them that we'd be okay, we are mature, responsible teenagers.

Cole turns to Andrea and me and says, "I don't want to go home."

Andrea sighs. She adds, "Me too."

"We'll do another trip together like this!" I attempt to cheer them up.

Andrea laughs and says, "Let's go to France!"

"Yeah!" I agree.

Cole stares through the tiny window, oblivious to us, lost in his own thoughts. Andrea and I chat for a few minutes about France, then the plane takes off.

"Mickaela!" I hear a whisper coming from behind me. I turn around and see nothing there. That's a bit odd.

I ask Andrea and Cole, "Did you guys hear that?"

They shake their heads and Cole asks, "Hear what?"

"It must have been my imagination," I say, and forget about the whisper.

Andrea and Cole watch a movie while I read a book. The flight is calm and relaxing, until a few hours in, we hit turbulence. A sudden jerking movement causes me to drop my beloved book. Andrea and Cole take off their headphones.

Andrea, visibly frightened, whispers, "What was that?"

I shrug and mouth "I don't know."

Another movement nearly throws us out of our seats. Andrea and I quickly clasp hands. Fear envelopes my entire body and I cannot move. An announcement comes over the speaker but I don't hear it because a baby screams in front of us.

The next movement, the worst so far, flings my head forward into the seat. Baggage falls out on the overhead compartments. A throbbing ache in my head makes it hard to me to think as passengers scream and try to calm their loved ones. Andrea's hand holds mine so tightly it goes numb. Where are my parents? And Daisy? Daisy? I try to swivel my head to glimpse their seats three or four rows behind us, but my vision blackens and the last thing I see is an oxygen mask going over my face.


	2. Chapter 2

Andrea: Wreckage

Am I dead? Is this swirling around in pure darkness an afterlife? Do I feel numbness forever?

No, I can hear something. It's a buzzing noise, no, a whistle. Or is it a scream? Can it be many screams? The noise grows louder and threatens my sanity with its shrieking cries. It must be screams after all.

Screams? Yes, it's all coming back to me now. There was a crash. I was on the plane when we hit turbulence. The thought that I could possibly die froze my body as the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. Before I put mine on, I saw Mickaela nearly passing out. There was a nasty gash on her forehead. Somehow I managed to put on Mickaela's mask, then mine.

Now I'm here. Well, wherever here is. I slowly open my aching eyelids. My eyes take a few moments to adjust to the blinding light. I'm lying face down in soft, yellow sand. Beach? It must be a beach, because I glance up and see a brilliantly blue ocean. Waves sparkle in the sunlight, and not a cloud litters the sky.

As quickly as my vision races back, my hearing returns as well. The screams are distinguishable as sounds of human distress. My eyes follow the direction of the screams, which leads me to a horrifying sight.

Fire. Blood. Terror. Unconceivable fear.

The plane is scattered over the beach in numerous flaming pieces. People of all nationalities desperately search for their loved ones or aid the injured. Clothes, bags, and other random objects speckle the sparkling sand. The turbine of the plane is still running, blasting a cruel noise to add to the mess of shrieks and shouts. However, what caught my eye were the bodies. They were dead. Dead. Gone. Bye-bye. Lost in the nothingness.

But I'm here, and although I want to run away from the wreckage, I must go headfirst into it. Mickaela may still be alive in there, in who knows what condition. My best friend needs me. And so do her cousin, sister, and parents; they all need me.

I force my shaking legs to support my weight as I lift myself off the sand. My head spins and every inch of my body aches. But I know I must look for them. I rush towards the mess. Smoke fills my lungs, I cough a few times, but I march on. Just like in La Marseilles, "Marchons! Marchons!"

Humming the French national anthem calms me, until I trip over a dead body. It was still warm, but the life that once lived in it is gone.

I scream at the top of my lungs.

What if Mickaela is like this somewhere?

The thought sickens me. I jump to my feet, run a few steps, and fall again. What is my problem? I can never do anything. Mickaela and her family might die because I couldn't get there fast enough. Although I try to restrain myself, sobs rack my body, and I curl my knees up and wrap my arms around my legs.

"Hello, sweetheart, are you hurt? Is there anything I can do to help?" A soothing and masculine voice interrupts my self-hatred and misery.

I glance upwards to see the face to which that voice belongs, and I find a dirty, bleeding, and yet attractive man. Although his face is covered with a mixture of blood and ashes, I can tell that this man is handsome. He has a strong jawline, and eyes tinged with red but shine a brilliant blue-green. His gray button-up shirt is ripped at his ribs to reveal a deep wound, dripping blood on his shirt and staining his khaki pants.

The sight of blood churns the food in my stomach, and I choke back vomit. He repeats, "Are you okay?"

I shake myself out of my stupor and respond, barely audible, "Yes…yes, I'm okay."

"Injured anywhere?" The handsome man further inquires.

"N-no," I say, then I add, "I don't know where my friend and her family are."

"We'll find them. I'm missing my wife as well. Take my hand," he holds out his hand.

I take it, and he pulls me up. At his touch, my fear nearly evaporates, and his steady gaze on my tear-stained face embarrasses me even in this abysmal moment.

"What's your name?" He calmly asks, still holding my hand.

"Andrea," I breathily say.

"I'm Mason." He squeezes my hand before letting it fall to my side.

"Let' go," Mason commands and begins to walk nearer to the crash site

His composure stuns me as we inspect the area. A few times we briefly stop to assist some injured people. Mason deftly fashions a tourniquet out of his shirt to stop the bleeding of a lady's leg. Another time he gives CPR to a young man whose heart has stopped. At the same time he soothes what looks like the man's identical brother who is, like me, absolutely distressed.

With each distraction I grow more and more worried. Likewise, Mason seems to be restless, and we search through the wreckage faster. Mickaela, where are you?

I push aside a large piece of metal, and light blonde hair peeks out from beneath it.

"Mason!" I shout. He puts down another piece of metal and helps me lift.

We cast the metal to the side, I am ecstatic at the sight of Cole. Except for a few scratches, he appears to be unharmed. I shake his shoulder and his eyes squint open. I bear hug him, and he weakly hugs me back.

He opens his mouth and starts to ask, "Where are….?"

I quickly cut him off, "I don't know, but I promise I'll find them. Stay here I'll be back soon."

Cole rests his head on the piece of metal while Mason and I continue to search.

"They must be nearby," Mason says, quickening his sifting pace.

Although I am less than a religious person, I pray in my head, God, please let them be close, alive and okay.

As if on cue, I spot little Daisy unconscious a few feet away buried under more metal and a couple suitcases. We rush over to uncover her. She moans when we lift the last bit of scraps from on top of her. Mason carries her over to where Cole is recovering.

Cole takes Daisy in his arms and strokes her sweaty hair. Tears run down his cheeks.

Mason tries to comfort him, "She'll be okay."

Cole nods, and his look of sheer gratitude speaks the thanks he has no emotion left to say.

My mind should be at ease by now. Cole and Daisy are already found, the chaos has ended, and many people have joined Mason and me in our search for survivors. Instead, my heart beats quicker and quicker and the fear grows and grows. A lump swells in my throat and tears sting my eyes. If Mickaela were here, she'd hold my hand and say it's ok. She and I would remember all our private jokes and reminiscence sweet memories. If Mickaela were here…

"There's a girl, here! Help me get her out!" An Arabic-looking man shouts.

Immediately I run over to assist. A teenage girl, covered in blood, is barely visible through a pile of plane remnants. Sticking out of that pile is a thin sheet of metal, straight up in the air.

I start to rip through that pile, but my arm is caught by Mason. He says, "I think that the metal may lodged inside her chest."

The Arab nods his agreement and instructs, "Be very, very, careful removing the pieces around her."

"Okay," I quietly say.

It takes a few agonizing minutes for heap to be cleaned. Indeed, the sheet of metal is piercing Mickaela's stomach.

"Is she alive?" I ask Mason once I can tell that the blood-covered teenage girl is Mickaela.

He bends down and puts his index and middle fingers around Mickaela's wrist. "Yes, she's still alive."

My insides almost melt with pure joy at that news. But again I feel completely helpless as I stare at the metal in her chest, and the gash pouring blood on her forehead. Even though I hate the sight of blood, even though the scent of blood triggers gags, I kneel down, rip off the down layer of my tee-shirt, and wipe the red off of Mickaela's eyelids. I clean her entire face until the cloth is completely soaked. The wound on her forehead is deep, and may partially cut through her skull.

"Andrea?" Mason taps my back. "Someone found my wife, I'm going to see her. Will you be okay?"

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"I'll come back to check on you and your friend." He starts to walk away.

"Mason?" I say.

He turns around to face me.

"Thank you," He smiles and returns to walking.

Too bad he has a wife.

Bad girl Andrea! Your friend is dying yet you're still thinking of men! You're pathetic!

"I know," I whisper aloud.

"Did you say something?" A man asks me. He must have just gotten here because I don't recognize him.

"No."

He says, perhaps to himself or to the couple people with him, "The metal must be taken out as soon as possible. She needs stitches in her head, and her body once the metal is out. Kate, came you please stitch her forehead?"

A slender woman takes out a needle and threads it. She loops it through the wound, out, in again, out in.

She faces me and says, "No one will blame you if you need to leave while we do this."

I'm glad she said that, because I was about to puke. I get up, and sprint to the edge of the jungle. I pick a bush and vomit.


	3. Chapter 3

Bronwyn: Missing

Work at the Adirondack club has been boring with Mickaela on vacation. I've taught the kids' swim classes every day, I've gone home and went for a run, fell asleep, and it started all over again. We agreed there'd be no more adventures until she came back. That was easier said than done. Luckily she was returning home today.

After my last class of the day, I find Kyle waiting for me outside the women's locker room. His golden hair is still damp from his elite swim team practice and a few drops of water drips onto the collar of his gray tee-shirt. My heart skips a beat when his gaze finds my face and he smiles a toothy grin.

"Hey Bronwyn," he says.

"Hi, how was swim?" I ask.

"It was pretty good. What about class?"

"One kid almost drowned but other than that, it was pretty good."

"Good, good," he says

An awkward pause develops after he speaks. Wow, his eyes are like the blue of the ocean…

"Bronwyn! Kyle!" Gabriel comes running down the hallway.

"What's wrong?" I ask with concern.

Gabriel looks like he is on the verge of tears, a sight I never thought I'd see. He pants, "She..she…"

Kyle says, "She what?"

He looks up like a little lost puppy, sad, alone, and scared. He quickly mutters, "Go turn on the news." Gabriel buries his face with his hands, and his body shakes. He must be crying.

Kyle and I share a confused look before rushing to the staff room where a crowd is already gathered around the television. As we approach the screen, a silence grows and all the staff members immediately end their conversations to stare at us.

What in the world…

A reporter stands in front of an Australian airport.

Australia, that's where Mickaela went.

The reporter says, "Flight 815, Sydney to Los Angeles, lost complete connection in the Pacific Ocean during a storm. Its whereabouts are currently unknown. Search parties are looking for the plane and its passengers. More information is coming soon. I'm…"

Mickaela….her family….

I turn to Kyle and ask, "What was her flight number?"

He shrugs, and says in a small voice, "I don't know."

Gabriel enters the room, and everyone faces him. His eyes are red, and his face is ashen. He announces, "She was on Flight 815."

Oh. My. Lord.

I bury my face into Kyle's shoulder and sob. His arms wrap around my shaking waist. A few of Kyle's tears fall into my hair.

She must be dead.


End file.
